Come On, Sweet Catastrophe
by The Brat Prince
Summary: Kendall is a virgin. James has some things to say about that.


**Come On, Sweet Catastrophe**

_By: Jondy Macmillan_

A/N: I am re-upping this against my better judgment. Mostly because I feel bad for posting random WWII things and angst everywhere. I took this down a few months back when ffn was railing against nudity and bad words, but I'm trusting you guys not to rat me out here. If I get a whiff of scandal, my profile will be back to being sex free. Now, this was originally posted early in 2011. I'm stealing my author's notes from LJ here, but: so. I'mma shout out a thank you to my boyfriend. When I called and asked, "How would you get one of your guy friends laid?" He proceeded to give me some truly awful advice. Which I decided to slap all over the internet. Please do not use this story as an instruction manual. My boyfriend has no idea what he's talking about. Also, I have no idea how this got as long as it did with as little plot as it has.

* * *

The first time James realizes that Kendall has a problem, it's at an under twenty one club in the middle of nowhere. Club is probably the overstatement of the year; they're actually at the bowling alley. The owners try to class the place up by hiding the pins behind thick black wall hangings, but nobody's fooled.

James spots him idling by the scratched wooden bar, a familiar silhouette. On the ice, Kendall's a king. A god among men. But in the mood lit club? He's mostly out of place. He's this awkward kid, wearing ripped jeans and a gray t-shirt beneath the most hideous plaid shirt James has ever had the misfortune of seeing.

James is pretty sure he's covertly tried to burn that shirt at sleepovers on at least three different occasions. How it keeps surviving is beyond him.

Kendall's not with anyone, which is weird, because most of the kids there are huddled into cliquey little groups, like maybe they've been sewn together at the hips. James is one of those kids, attached by a jumble of elbows and knees and digits to his friends from the drama club.

This is _his_ place, _his_ kingdom. This is his home away from home, where he gets to stretch his wings. Where he can get some space from his three best friends in the whole wide world.

So yeah, seeing Kendall? Kind of comes as a shock.

It's not that he doesn't love the guy. Kendall's been a part of life since James has been old enough to form words. It's just that sometimes he likes to have his own identity. And this, this shoddy little piece of Midwestern hipster nightlife? It's where he does that.

Kendall needs to learn some respect.

That's what James is thinking when he marches over to his friend, the curious gazes of last year's Hamlet (when the fall show went Shakespearean) and this year's Little Red Ridinghood (for the spring production of Into The Woods) burning into his shoulders, his spine.

"What are you doing here?" James demands, indignant because this is an _invasion_ of _privacy_. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again. That's the law of the land here, his land, his dark little palace of independent rock and fizzy pop.

Kendall's head snaps up and he looks shocked that someone's deigned to talk to him. His eyes widen in recognition, and _come on_, James thinks. He had to have noticed James staring at him for five minutes straight, just there, by what acts as Lane Thirteen by day.

"James," he squeaks, voice doing that thing it hasn't really done very often since puberty packed up its bags. James kind of misses it; the unfortunate but adorable crack in Kendall's pitch. He, of course, never had that problem. He strolled through puberty like he does most things; gracefully.

James cocks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, trying on his best bitch face.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"

"What are _you _doing here?" Kendall asks, instead of being a decent human being and providing him with an answer. "I didn't even know _here_ existed until this afternoon."

That's ridiculous. How can he lie like that? This is James's regular Wednesday night hangout, and okay, maybe he's never actually shared that fact with his three best friends, but they're smart enough to figure it out. Or so he's always thought.

For the first time, it occurs to James that maybe Kendall, Logan, and Carlos don't actually care what he does when he's not with them.

Which, _ouch_.

"Why would they do that to the lanes?" Kendall twirls a finger in the general direction of all that black velvet and crepe that provides the whole club with atmosphere.

"To backlight the band, obviously."

"Band?" Kendall blinks at him, his entire expression blank.

"_Dude_." James has no problem admitting that he's a little embarrassed to be Kendall's friend right now, much less to be slotted into the category of _best_. Like, he'd appreciate a little self awareness here. Things exist outside of school and the rink and their tiny little neighborhood.

James realizes there's some irony in that statement, considering that until the most recent Olympics, he thought Vancouver was in Russia. What_ever_.

"You mean they play music at this-" Kendall glances around the bowling alley, frowning. "This?"

"Duh. Why else would anyone come? Not for the nachos," James makes a face, because the last time one of the theater geeks had ordered up a plate of chips and cheese, the cheese had been petrified.

"Oh. So. You do this often?"

Imperiously, James says, "_I_ am the one that gets to ask questions right now."

A vague smile flickers over Kendall's lips. "Shoot."

"Can you be more frustrating? You. Are. Here. Why?" James spreads his arms wide, encompassing the whole bowling alley.

The bridge of Kendall's nose pinks, the flush blooming across his late summer freckles like wildfire.

"Gotadate," he mumbles.

"Pardon?"

"I've- um. Got a date." His voice does that cracking thing again, and in that moment he looks very much fifteen and helpless.

James's birthday was in the summer, and he's feeling like a very wise, very experienced sixteen year old right now. So he decides not to mock Kendall too hard.

"Sweet. Where is she? _Invisible_?"

"No, god. No. She's just- not here yet."

James gives Kendall his patented I Know Best stare down the nose that always makes him look both intelligent and authoritative. Or, if Logan's word is anything to go by, farsighted, but James has made a habit of never listening to anything that comes out of Logan's mouth. It's just not healthy to know so many things.

"Did you get stood up?"

"I don't think so." And now Kendall's gaze has gone fiery. He looks abruptly fierce, like when he's about to rush the nets, and James admires his ability to go from vulnerable to determined in five seconds flat. James takes twice as long to get into character when he's playing a part. He thinks it has something to do with his brain trying to catch up to the rest of him.

James hates himself for his inability to be a horrible friend, but he ventures, "Do you want some company?"

Little Red and the Prince of Denmark are completely capable of taking care of themselves. He thinks.

Kendall nibbles on his lip, dimples deepening with shadows, and James can kind of see why him mom always seems to want to pinch Kendall's cheeks.

"You know what? No. Thanks," he says, flustered. He looks a little bit ashamed when he admits, "I don't want to scare her off. We can be overwhelming in pairs."

True enough. Whenever any of the four of them are together, they usually end up doing something more rowdy than the average teenage boy. But James can see what Kendall isn't saying, and that is that James has a tendency to make girls come in their jeans.

It's not arrogance if it's true.

"Suit yourself."

So James leaves Kendall alone and obviously out of his depth, possibly considering the nachos from the line of his gaze.

It should be fine. James has done his friendly duty. He tried, alright?

Except it doesn't really do anything at all to assuage his guilt.

Kendall's surrounded by girls with thick black eyeliner and boys who actually know how to use a flat iron; all of them wearing jeans so dangerously tight that they make James's look baggy by comparison. None of these kids probably have a single idea what boarding is, but they seem to have no problem nudging Kendall up against the countertop so that they can form a crowd in anticipation of the band. James thinks they're being unnecessarily rough; the band isn't anything special. They're some shoddy three-piece that plays out of the drummer's garage.

Halfway through the first set, James is so focused on Kendall that he realizes he can't name a single song the band's played yet. James is watching Kendall bop his head back and forth to the beat like the loneliest nerd at the school dance, and that is _it_. There is an intervention to be had here. Immediately.

Little Red and poor prince Hamlet seem occupied with alternately making eyes at each other and criticizing the bass player. Which is fine. James dated Red Riding Hood last year for a brief week long period before deciding that he can't actually tolerate hooking up with a girl who has to stand on a stool to kiss him, and Hamlet's a nice guy. He makes sure to bump her into his arms when he's leaving, because James likes to play matchmaker. Love is made for spreading.

"Do you really have a date?"

"I-" Kendall bites his lip again, and okay, that's kind of distracting. Someone needs to explain to Kendall that mouths were not created for nibbling like that. James makes the executive decision not to be the one to do it. He kind of likes watching.

Absently, he wonders what it would be like to run his tongue over those lips when they're all red and bitten. He shakes the thought as soon as it comes, because James doesn't fuck with his friends. It's the golden rule. He imposed it upon himself at age thirteen, when he realized that Kendall, Logan, and Carlos were apparently intent on developing into the most gorgeous boys to have ever walked the Earth.

Other than James himself, of course.

"I-" Kendall tries again, but then his mouth snaps shut. He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his golden hair and says, "I think I messed up."

"What?" James asks, because garage bands are loud, even in gigantic bowling alleys, and because Kendall spoke so softly that it's like he barely said anything at all. If James wasn't so focused on his mouth, he probably would have missed it.

"I messed up," Kendall says again, a little louder. James has to take a moment to relish those words, because Kendall's not big on admitting guilt. He likes to try to sweep his mistakes under the rug or fix them before anyone even has time to realize they're mistakes.

"What happened?" James hooks Kendall by the arm, dragging him away from the Siamese Hipsters doing their strange, jerky dance and over to the bathrooms, where it smells like vomit and old shoes. At least it's quieter.

"This girl- she's in my history class-"

"The blonde?" James interjects, because he's made a habit of memorizing all the hotties who've ever stepped foot near his friends just in case he spots an opening where there wouldn't normally be one.

"The brunette, with the really blue eyes and the big-"

"Gotcha," James snaps his fingers, knowing instantly who Kendall's talking about. She's cute.

"We've gone out a few times."

James's eyes widen, because really? This _is_ news.

"And we were, um, hooking up. In the garage," Kendall is legitimately turning red now, and it's pretty adorable. James's fingers are twitching, and he kind of wants to pinch his friend's cheek again. "So, yeah, uh, we're hooking up, right? And, um. She. She-"

James is fascinated. He doesn't think he's seen Kendall stutter since the time the four of them got caught accidentally on purpose peeking in the girl's locker room last year. There'd been this minor turf war between them and the freshman girls that culminated in the theft of Carlos's helmet and a month of detention for all four boys.

Girls play dirty.

"And?" James prompts, because it doesn't seem like Kendall's mouth will be reaching its destination any time soon.

"She put her hand down my pants," he mutters, words tumbling from his lips so quickly that they crash into each other.

James's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "_Congratulations_, buddy."

"No. _No_." Guilt colors Kendall's face redder by the second. "It's not a good thing."

"Since when has getting lucky been anything but good?"

"I didn't- um. Get lucky."

"You lost me."

"I kind of- freaked out."

James blinks. He wonders how inappropriate it would be to laugh. Because that? Doesn't surprise him in the least. Kendall puts up a good front, but he's the most inexperienced guy James knows.

Girls have been flocking to James since as long as he can remember. They've been after Logan since they first realized that all they have to do is bat their eyelashes and he'll write them a thesis paper. And Carlos? Well, Carlos's older brothers gave him a crash course in females on his sixteenth birthday. It only half worked; the kid still can't land a girlfriend to save his life, but he's already rounded all the bases. Kendall's the only one of them who's still holding onto his V-Card, which James always sort of figured was a _situational_ thing.

It's not that he's _ugly_ or anything. James can say from a great deal of experience that Kendall, naked, is a sight to behold. It's just that he's got very clear cut priorities, and they are named Carlos, Logan, James, and the Varsity Hockey League. James has always thought that Kendall just needs to find a girl who's willing to put up with his ridiculous dedication to both hockey and his best friends long enough to round third, and the deal will be sealed.

Apparently, that is not the case.

"I panicked," Kendall is saying. "I pushed her away. She- she fell off the couch."

He looks miserable about it.

James can't help snorting. He tries to cover it up by taking a sip of his pop, but Kendall is in no way fooled.

"We'd made a date, here, before but. I don't think she's going to come."

Probably not. James doesn't say that. Instead he asks, "Has this happened before?"

"Maybe," Kendall mumbles, sullen.

_Well. _

"How many times?"

"I spit orange soda in that girl from gym class's hair. And I might have, um, accidentally ripped Jenny Tinkler's favorite shirt."

Jenny Tinkler? Kendall's so desperate that he tried to get it on with Catastrophic Jenny?

"That is _it_. I am going to get you laid."

"What?"

James ignores him, musing, "At least we know it's not your natural good looks keeping the girls away."

"What's wrong with the way I look?" Kendall asks, mightily offended.

"Nothing. Just, you might want to invest in some tweezers for those eyebrows. _Not important_. Look, this is fixable. We can definitely fix this."

"How? I've tried calling her eight times and-"

"No. No. We can't fix this with _her_."

Kendall's face falls.

"Look, I'm telling you, there are better girls out there."

Girls who won't get upset when a guy's a little…inexperienced.

Kendall shakes his head, glaring dolefully at James. He's way too nice a person, sometimes.

"No, really. I'm not saying you have to date the entire sophomore class. Just, let me find you someone. Someone sweet."

"I don't need my own personal Casanova acting as a wingman."

"Suit yourself, _Romeo_. Up to you," James shrugs. He does a slow turn, both because it looks dramatic and because he knows it's giving Kendall time to think.

He spots Red Riding Hood and Hamlet in the corner, trying to eat each other's faces off. At least he's done some good tonight.

James hears Kendall exhale, tension flooding from his body. Tiredly, Kendall says, "Okay. What do I have to do?"

"Nothing," James grins, turning back to his friend. "Just sit back and relax."

* * *

Getting Kendall laid turns out to be a lot more work than James has bargained for.

Miss History has a big mouth, and now the whole school thinks Kendall has _performance anxiety_. The words make James cringe. Every time Kendall sees someone whispering in his general direction, he just steels his shoulders and bears it.

James finds that pretty admirable. He may have pranced through puberty, but he's never been able to handle rumors very well. Kendall deals like a pro.

At first, James tries out the _nice_ girls, the ones who don't listen to gossip but are still easygoing enough that they'll probably get sweaty and horizontal with the promise of a monogamous relationship thrown in the mix. The ones who will be _gentle_.

Thing is, Kendall doesn't _like_ any of them.

James is of the opinion that beggars can't be choosers, and it's not like any of the girls he's taken the time to clear for Kendall's perusal are _hideous._ James has strict standards, man.

Personally, he thinks all girls are kind of beautiful, in their own way; even if they're bucktoothed or cross eyed. His mom sells cosmetics. She raised him to have a deep appreciation for the ladies. Plus he's learned that there's no better way to turn inner beauty into outer beauty than a Brooke Diamond gift basket.

But that said, he recognizes that Kendall probably doesn't want to get his cherry popped by the school's resident acne-scarred goth. Every single girl James parades in front of his best friend is handpicked for hotness.

Kendall isn't having any of it. He wants a connection. _Please_.

James figures as long as there's chemistry going on in his boxers it's a match made in heaven. But then, James plans on sampling a large portion of the female population before he ever manages to settle down.

Probably the male population too, if he's completely honest with himself.

Kendall obviously has a different plan; one that may involve white picket fences and a dog. And if that's where all of this is headed, James realizes that he needs to add new criteria to the mix. He's going to have to be able to _tolerate_ her.

Eventually, though, James ends up getting kind of _desperate_. Kendall's sixteenth birthday comes and goes, and he's turned down every single one of James's options. James gets as far as throwing one of the school sluts in Kendall's face before Kendall ends up calling him a jerk and telling him to back the hell off.

"I'm just trying to help, dude."

"Okay, yeah. Your help? Is not helping. My mother had a fit when she walked in and that- that, hussy was standing in my living room in her _underwear_."

James suppresses a laugh. "Did you just say hussy?"

"That is not the point."

"It kind of is. Who says hussy?"

"Logan," Kendall replies, sullen.

Of course he does. He's Logan. He hates words that weren't invented before the 1800s. James sighs.

They're at the rink, about to warm up for practice. The rest of the guys are in the locker room, but Kendall pulled James aside to talk to him about the naked girl in his house. Right now, they're sitting on one of the benches, breath all soft and hazy around them, the chill of the ice turning everything crisp and clean.

"You're lucky I don't punch you in the face. You're lucky I like your face," Kendall tells him, voice going all soft and fond.

"I appreciate that, but dude. She's a great girl. You should have given her a try."

"With my mom there?"

"If you're into that."

"_James_!"

"Okay, okay, fine. Sorry. I was just trying to help," he says again. He turns his stick over in his hands, watching as Kendall laces one of his skates.

"I can't believe you chose her. She's slept with half of the hockey team. Including you."

"Can you _really _afford to be picky?"

Kendall frowns. "Why do you care when I lose my virginity, anyway?"

"We're friends. Friends take care of each other. And- I want you to be happy."

"I am happy. Being a virgin and hanging out with you jerks."

James smiles, but he doesn't really believe that. Sex is _awesome_. Kendall is missing out.

He doesn't get time to fix the problem, though, because a few days later, they end up auditioning for Gustavo Rocque.

And that, of course, changes everything.

* * *

Jo is perfect for Kendall.

She's perfect, and possibly a puritan.

James is one hundred percent certain she was raised by pilgrims.

He was _ecstatic_ when Jo and Kendall started dating.

Okay, not ecstatic, because he was honestly hoping to get with Jo before Kendall got there. But now that they've ended up together, he can see that she's _way too nice_ for him anyway, and besides, she makes Kendall happy. Which is the point, right?

Plus, Jo is the type of girl who's in it for the long haul, just like Kendall. In the beginning, James figures that Jo is obviously going to be Kendall's first, right?

_Wrong. _

They've been dating nearly a year, and the lack of action is literally driving James _insane_.

"We need to speed- I mean, heat things up," he tells Kendall one evening, right after a date with some model for Seventeen. He slams his soft drink down on the kitchen counter for emphasis.

"You want hot pockets?"

"I mean between you and Jo."

Kendall smirks, which seems like a completely inappropriate reaction considering his balls are probably bluer than the sky. "You were thinking about my relationship with Jo during your date? With a model?"

"No." James frowns, because actually, yeah. He'd been so focused on thinking about how to get Kendall into Jo's pants that he hadn't really been able to enjoy Seventeen Magazine's tongue down his throat. Which is kind of a shame. She'd been a total babe.

She'd also been bright enough to figure out that James wasn't enjoying making out with her nearly enough to pursue a second date.

Which really clinches it. Kendall's love life, or lack thereof, is officially intruding on James's.

"What else am I supposed to think about? Don't you get sick of dating the Virgin Mary? How do you continue to function?"

"James," Kendall says, and it amazes James how Kendall always manages to say his name in the most patient yet condescending manner in the world. It's like he's got a hotline straight into James's mom's head, because she is the only other person he knows who has mastered that ability. "We're taking it slow."

"Slow? Logan's special slugs that bang like, once every fourteen years? They're moving faster than you two. I cannot, as your friend, stand by and watch this."

"It's none of your business, James. Besides, sex isn't everything."

"Says the guy who's never had any. What's the deal, here? Is she saving herself for marriage? Is that what this is?"

"No. I-" Kendall's mouth snaps shut, his eyes widening.

"You never asked, did you?"

"No. I didn't- it hasn't come up."

"You've been dating for a year!"

"I know. Um."

"Okay, you need to find this out. This is relevant information."

"You want me to go ask Jo if she's got a purity ring?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"There is no time like the present."

"That's not going to happen."

"Not looking like that, it won't. Wait, let me think. Girls like flowers. And chocolate. You should bring those, in case this conversation is exactly what she's been waiting for, and she jumps on you like a mountain lion in heat."

"That's your amazing plan? Flowers and chocolate?"

"You should make it special for her, since you probably won't be that good."

"_James_." Kendall sounds completely scandalized.

"What? I'm not judging. It's your first time. You can't help it. So you should bring- roses. Girls like roses," James says, secure in his knowledge of all things involving the wooing of the fairer sex. He's on steady ground here. He knows what it takes to get into a chick's pants.

"And chocolate?" Kendall asks, obviously skeptical.

"Never underestimate the power of chocolate."

"I'm dating Jo, not you," Kendall says pointedly, because James has a well known weak spot for anything made from a cocoa bean.

"Trust me. Girls _love_ presents. Then, if she gives you the go ahead, we'll get her back to your room-"

"What about my mom?"

"I'll take care of your mom."

"What about Logan?"

"Him too."

"You're ridiculous. You are the most ridiculous person I've ever met."

"Come on. It's a solid plan. Chocolate is an aphrodisiac, you know."

"I'm not going to rush Jo into anything."

"Who asked you to rush? Take it slow. You give her the flowers, give her the chocolate- which will make her think _mmm, orgasmic._ And then, you know. You give her an orgasm."

"Could you please stop saying the word orgasm?"

"Orgasm," James says emphatically, licking his lips.

"I hate you so much."

"See, that is a blatant lie. Are you nervous? Do you need tips?"

"Tips?" Kendall squeaks.

"Tell me exactly what Jo says when you're together."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you start getting all hot and heavy." James can't help grinning a little, because he likes that visual. He likes the idea of good looking people looking good in bed together. "Does she tell you no?"

"What?"

"Does she tell you no when you start going too far?"

"No! I'm not- I wouldn't ever force her to go there."

"I'm not saying you would. I'm asking where she draws the line. How much progress have you made? Third base?"

Kendall's ears turn pink. James seems to be having that effect on him a lot lately.

"We haven't, um."

"Second base?" James groans, because this might be harder than he thought. Slowly, Kendall shakes his head.

James stares at him. "You haven't even copped a feel?"

"You're disgusting."

"No. How is that disgusting?" James reaches out and lays his hand flat against Kendall's chest, thumbing over his nipple through his thin, ugly t-shirt. He can feel Kendall's heart thunder under his ribcage, and Kendall shifts, like he's ticklish. "You're right, this is nausea inducing."

"It's not the same," Kendall insists.

James shrugs and slips the same hand up under the hemline of Kendall's shirt.

"Dude, your hands are cold."

James looks pointedly at the soft drink he was just drinking, still chilled from the fridge. Kendall stills while James traces a finger up and down his chest. Then he says, "It's still not the same. I don't have-"

He falters. Jo is obviously not the only puritan in the hotel.

"Boobs? Dude. Are you telling me you've never even wanted to touch Jo's rack?"

"James, you can't talk about my girlfriend's-"

"I can talk about whatever I want." James flicks Kendall's other nipple with his middle finger, possibly a little harder than is warranted, "Girls like it when you touch them, alright? Have you ever even _tried_ to unhook her bra?"

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation anymore."

James sighs, laying his hand flat against Kendall's heart again. He's aware that the way they're standing there in the middle of the living room might look a little weird to anyone who decides to walk in, but honestly, this will not be the worst situation Mrs. Knight has ever caught him in. Kendall's heart is a steady rhythm under his fingers, an 808 drum echoed by the soft rise and fall of his breathing.

"If she doesn't want you to, she'll stop you," James says carefully, because he knows that Kendall will never do anything to ever make Jo uncomfortable. He's entirely too chivalrous. "But she probably wants you to. Girls have needs too."

James withdraws his hand from beneath Kendall's shirt and goes to stick his soda in the fridge.

Except when he turns back around, Kendall's still standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the spot where James was standing.

* * *

The next day, Jo can't seem to stop smiling, and Kendall's ears have turned permanently red.

* * *

James figures he's gotten the ball rolling. It's only a matter of time.

Then a month passes with no new developments.

James is impatient. It's a character flaw.

"Alright, what's the hold up?"

"What are you talking about?" Kendall gets one look at James's face before he says, "Please don't tell me you're still on this."

"_This_ is serious business, Kendall. A young boy's virginity is like a-"

"Stop. Immediately. I need you to stop."

James obeys, but only because he isn't really sure where he was going with that speech.

"Look, things just aren't- working out. That way."

"Did you push her off a couch?"

"No. That was _one_ time."

"Okay, but. Maybe you're just doing it wrong?"

"I'm not doing it wrong."

"If you were doing it wrong, how would you know? Oh wait. You wouldn't be getting any," he deadpans.

"Fine. So how do we figure out if I'm a failure at seduction?"

James thinks it over. And then he says, "I have an idea. Wait right here."

When James comes back, Kendall says, "You look ridiculous."

James knows. He scowls and says, "Girls like to be wooed, and you need practice. Woo me, Kendall."

"I can't even look at you right now. Your mouth is all shiny-"

"Like you've never worn lipgloss."

"That was _one time_, and I was also wearing a dress and a wig and- would you please stop licking your lips like that?"

"Why? Is it disturbing you? Does it make you want to woo?"

"James. Stop saying woo. Please."

"Woo."

"I said please. You look really weird."

"I can't help it! I'd be wearing a dress too, but your mom put a lock on her closet. I think she's trying to tell us something. Lipgloss is the best I could do. Come on, this is easy, Kendall. Pretend that I'm a girl and then try to seduce me."

"I'm not at all comfortable with this scenario."

"Kendall, I'm wearing lipgloss for you. Lipgloss, dude. My mouth tastes like strawberries." James makes a face, pursing his lips. "Seduce me."

Kendall sighs. He leans forward and takes hold of James's hands, interlocking their fingers. And then he looks into James's eyes and- _laughs_. A lot.

"I'm sorry, this is not going to work."

James is a little bit offended. The situation calls for a lot more solemnity and dignity and- okay. The way Kendall is rubbing his thumb against James's palm is a little bit distracting. Kendall's still laughing; raucous, howling laughter, but his hands seem to be moving almost subconsciously. Soothing circles against James's that are really- yeah. Distracting.

Imperiously, James decides to say, "So. You laugh in Jo's face. Nice. I can't imagine why she hasn't ripped her panties right off."

That makes Kendall's face contort in horror and he says, "_James_."

"Focus," James orders, and Kendall sort of straightens. He sighs again and, ever so tentatively, lifts James's hand to his mouth like he's a knight and this is some renaissance romance.

"No, no, no. You do it like this."

James takes over, pulling their interlocked hands towards him. He twists Kendall's palm so that it's facing upwards and pressing the softest of kisses to the inside of his wrist.

Kendall stares at him, bug eyed.

James ignores him, because obviously he's incapable of learning without practical demonstrations. James mouths up Kendall's forearm, feather light kisses that linger just a second too long, that make Kendall's pulse jump beneath James's lips.

When he reaches the inside of Kendall's elbow, James sucks a small red mark, tonguing it for fun before he unlatches his mouth.

Kendall trembles, and all James can think is, _Oh yeah. I'm good_.

Except the feeling of Kendall's skin against his mouth makes James tremble inside the slightest bit too, and that can't happen.

It's the golden rule for a reason. James has seen what relationships do to people.

What you lose when they end.

So he says, "I think I have a better plan."

* * *

He hunts down Logan at the Palmwoods Park, reading, because that is what Logan likes to do with his time for reasons that James doesn't really understand. He's got a bottle of Tropicana in his lap, and when he sees James, he smiles like the naïve kid that he is.

James asks, "Can I borrow your girlfriend?"

"Um. She's not my girlfriend anymore."

"Whatever. Can I borrow her?"

"Sure. Why?" Logan takes a sip.

"I need a date."

"What?" Logan spits his orange juice in James's face.

James patiently wipes at it with his shirt sleeves and sighs. "Not a real date. Geez, I have to go out with a girl so that Jo will feel comfortable around Kendall."

Logan's forehead furrows. "I'm pretty sure Jo already feels comfortable around Kendall."

"Yeah, but, you know. Comfortable, comfortable."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Of course he doesn't.

James decides that Logan doesn't need to understand. He's already given his permission.

* * *

Camille says yes to the date because Camille does not turn down schemes. She's very cool that way.

They end up at some burger joint, where Kendall and Jo proceed to be intensely boring and talk about the things Jo does on set. Like anyone cares.

James decides that things need to move along. He turns to Camille and says, "Quick, kiss me."

"What?" Camille looks a little bit scandalized.

"If Kendall and Jo see us getting all cozy, they'll want to hook up too."

Camille bites her lip, more than a little dubious. "You really believe that?"

James frowns. He has tested this theory again and again. It always works. Watching other people make out is like chocolate; an aphrodisiac. It always makes James pretty horny.

"Look, if anything, at least it will turn one of them on, and once they get all frisky, the other will. It's insta-magic!"

Camille rolls her eyes and says, "Yeah, no. Guys are always impressed with themselves when they pop a boner. It's like, _look how much I love you_. _That's what you do to me_. And then we're supposed to be turned on because we make you hard? Linoleum also makes you hard, so-."

"Camille. You're ruining it."

"Yeah, okay," she agrees, "Fine."

So they make out, which is fun. James figures he might as well take advantage of it before Logan finds out and _kills_ him. Thing is, it mostly only gets Jo to push back her chair and say, "I've got to use the restroom."

Kendall then loudly decides he needs to go buy some more drinks.

Once they're gone, Camille shakes her head. "You are such a good kisser. It's a shame…"

"What's a shame?"

"That you're gay."

"What? I'm not-"

Camille arches an eyebrow. James reconsiders. Finally he says, "I'm bisexual."

"That changes things. _Not_." She rolls her eyes. "You have it bad for Kendall."

"Well. Yeah," James admits, because the golden rule only stops him from acting on those thoughts. Not acknowledging them out loud.

"Jo's not stupid, you know. She's going to notice, if she hasn't already."

"She won't," James protests. "I am an _excellent_ actor."

Camille grins. "Want to kiss again?"

"I thought you-"

"It's been a while. You like kissing. I like kissing." She shrugs. "If it makes you uncomfortable-"

James cuts her off with his mouth, because yeah, Camille's a really good kisser too.

* * *

Kendall's a little standoffish with James after their double date. James figures this means that he didn't score with Jo.

James does vaguely recall her mentioning something about nausea, but he was really busy with his tongue in Camille's throat, so he might have imagined that part. He also might have imagined her taking bets about who would devour the other first. That can't be right. He has an active imagination.

But he guesses Kendall's sourface means that watching other people hook up doesn't make everyone as horny as it does to James.

Part of him wonders if that makes him a voyeur. He's not sure if he has a problem with that.

James is thinking about his possible kink while he mutilates zombies on TV, pie balanced neatly in his lap. He doesn't really get time to get any further than the word voyeur when Kendall comes storming into the apartment and announces, "Jo broke up with me."

"What? _Why_?"

"She wanted to know why I was acting weird. I didn't know what to tell her. This is your fault, you know."

"How is it my fault? You're the one who wanted to date Little Miss Mayflower."

"Because of your stupid seduction tips. And why the hell were you making out with Camille last night?"

"Ay 'ike kissing," James mumbles through a bite of his pie. As he continues to chew, he says, "Pity to waste all this."

He waves a hand around the general vicinity of his mouth, possibly dribbling a little pie in the process.

"Are you guys- together, now?"

"No," James says, swallowing, "Camille doesn't like me like that. Look, I'm sorry about Jo. Want to wallow in gratuitous violence?"

Because that is what James likes to do when his balls are feeling blue. Not that it happens very often.

He offers up a controller and says, "There's a zombie horde taking over New York City that needs fighting, here. Also, _pie_."

James lifts a fork, waving it pointedly in the air.

"Where did you get pie? I know my mom has not been cooking again."

"Ha, no. Do I look like I want food poisoning? Marie Calendar's, obviously. It's custard."

Kendall makes a face. "Couldn't you have picked up apple?"

"Hey, I do not discriminate between pies, alright? Now, here. Take your controller and shoot some undead things in the face. It's cathartic."

Kendall obeys.

* * *

The first time James notices Kendall watching Logan intensely, it's a month after the breakup with Jo. They're poolside, and James is in the midst of forcing Carlos to lotion up his back.

He files the weird notion that flits through his brain for later use, because, _surely not_.

Except it keeps happening. For an entire week, Kendall practically stalks Logan with his eyes. If eye fucking met the requirements of the get-Kendall-laid deal, James is pretty certain he'd be out of a job by now.

So one night he confronts Kendall in his room and says, "I think I know the problem here."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"The problem with what, exactly?"

"Why you haven't been able to seal the deal with a chick. You like _Logan._"

"You." Kendall's mouth gapes open and he finally says, "Is your brain a strange place to live?"

"I have evidence," James protests. "You've been staring at him a lot. A freaky lot. You've been pounding him with your eyes for the past week!"

"I've been trying to figure out a way to get Logan to do my science project for me! You know he gets snippy when we just come out and ask."

"Oh. Um. I take my theory back then."

"Face it, James. It's time to give up."

"No!" James protests, "No giving up! Absolutely not! I still have ideas."

He doesn't, actually, so he has to put up with Kendall staring at him expectantly for at least a minute before his mind comes up with something. He announces, "It's time for the last resort."

"Which is?"

"_Alcohol_."

* * *

Three hours later, he's got Kendall halfway to wasted in the bedroom he shares with Logan. James is leaning up against the headboard of Kendall's bed, with Kendall's head lolling over James's lap.

"I thought you wanted to get a _girl_ drunk."

"What girl? You've scared them all away," James says, "Even Jo. And it's not like we could get her drunk. Do pilgrims drink?"

"She's not a pilgrim. She's- just. Sweet."

"I'm sweet," James says indignantly, "I am very sweet. I also get regular sex."

"That is because you're a slut." Kendall hiccups, snorting laughter throughout it.

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing? Sluttiness is like- a public service."

"What?" Kendall demands, chuckling through a sip of tequila. Which was the only thing James could find that probably wouldn't be missed in Bitters' not-so-secret stash in the lobby.

Sassily, James intones, "Save a virgin, do me instead."

"I thought saving virgins was the last thing you wanted to do."

"Touché," James cheers, raising his glass. "Down with virginity!"

"You are stupid. And ridiculous," Kendall says, but his head is very close to James's dick, so he really doesn't have very much ground to stand on here.

James banishes that thought, because he is drunk, and touching Kendall gives James a contact high, or that's what he thinks it has to be.

But that thought is really hard to banish.

"Can I really do you instead?" Kendall asks, and he is laughing. There's this red color high in his cheeks and his smile is crooked and dimpled and beautiful, and James cannot even begin to imagine what girl wouldn't want to fuck his blessed brains out. There is obviously something very wrong with the female race as a whole.

James knows that he has this golden rule, this rule he's held close to his chest like an anchor whenever Logan smiles too deeply or Carlos does something too insane or Kendall acts simultaneously brave and moronic. But James has been raised to think that rules were made to be broken, and maybe if the world wasn't shattered color and gorgeous sound, spinning like a whirlwind, sparkling like falling stars, he wouldn't do anything stupid. If the world was just the world, he'd follow his golden rule. But the world is spinning, it is so gorgeously, heartbreakingly trembly and James feels like if he doesn't reach out and touch Kendall he might actually fall to pieces too. If Kendall wasn't so stupidly Kendall- it's all his fault.

That's what James thinks as he crosses the divide between them, pressing their mouths together hard and wet. Kendall tastes like tequila and he's laughing, laughing against James's lips and then he's groaning, this sound deep in his chest when James pulls him up so that their bodies press flush together.

"James," Kendall says and is that his name? That can't be his name, because his name has never sounded so perfect, so amazing from anyone else's lips, but it has to be because Kendall is tugging him closer like maybe they can make their clothes disintegrate between them. He's licking inside of James's mouth, his hands digging into his shoulders, his arms, his side, and James is exploring the notches in his spine, the wings of his shoulder blades, all the bones that make up this ridiculous, stupendous boy who obviously has never had his own golden rule.

Getting them both halfway to wasted is the best plan James has ever had, because he's still sober enough that he's not having any trouble getting his dick to stand at attention, but he's gone enough that the way Kendall feels under his fingers is something like an electric thrum, like a pulse that makes him harder every second it goes on. James likes the way that Kendall's breath hitches in his throat every time that James rolls their hips together. He likes the way that he gets to be the person making Kendall feel like this, that whenever they break for oxygen, Kendall is watching him with his intense green-gray gaze like James is all he's ever wanted in his life.

James fumbles with Kendall's belt, fingers getting caught in the buckle, and belts are stupid, belts are the most idiotic invention in the entirety of the universe but Kendall's eyes have gone all wide and James realizes that his hands are resting directly on Kendall's cock through his jeans and _oh_, James kind of forgot the whole virgin thing; he kind of forgot that Kendall's never had anyone else touch him like this.

"Is this-" James asks, his voice kind of husky from tequila in his throat and want pooled hot in his stomach and he has to say that this is okay, Kendall _has_ to. James doesn't know if he can stop, doesn't know if he can keep his hands off of his best friend any longer because he's been waiting for seventeen years for this moment, for Kendall to look at James exactly this way.

James can count a hundred, a thousand moments where he wanted Kendall, memories where Kendall stood on the ice; sweaty and golden, laughing, and James thought, _now_. Memories where Kendall danced next to him on stage; voice loud, expression fierce, and James thought, _now_. Memories in a bowling alley dressed up like a club, where James thought, _now_, and had to push it away; just like every other time until this second, when _now_ can actually happen, if only Kendall will let it.

He presses his fingers into denim, Kendall's dick twitching against the fabric and Kendall hisses out a breath, says, "Don't stop, please don't- you can't- for so long I wanted- I'll fucking kill you if you stop-" and more words that spill out of his mouth like a mantra and that's more than good enough for James. He works Kendall's zipper down, extricating his other hand from his belt. He's a little bit impatient, and he has to remind himself to slow down, to make this extra good for Kendall because he will never have another first time.

Except Kendall's kind of impatient too, because his fingers are fumbling southwards, and even though he's gasping as James's fingers curl over the head of his cock he's still trying to get at James's belt buckle, asking, "Is this okay?"

"Fuck, yes," James gasps, because there really is no other correct response to that question. Kendall is kissing a spot under James's jaw, a warm suck that makes his dick twitch. He traces his tongue along the shell of James's ear, breathes hot against the inner curvature, making James feel tingly all the way to his toes. Kendall's actually kind of freaky good at this, so James lets him take the lead, lets him work at James's dick for at least a minute before James decides it's time for both of them to get completely naked, immediately.

When he tries to pull both of their t-shirts off at the same time, it's a little awkward. Maybe he's not actually as sober as he likes, okay? But he can totally pull this off.

That's what he thinks until he gets them all tangled up, Kendall half hanging off of the bed while James tries to pull off his jeans. Kendall's laughing again, but not meanly, and then James starts to laugh too, because yeah. Why is he rushing? He inches Kendall's jeans the rest of the way down his legs, peppering kisses on his thighs, one hand pumping slow over his cock until Kendall's body has stopped trembling from laughter, breathing gone harsh. James extricates his ankles from denim and then reaches up with his other hand, sliding his fingers easily into Kendall's open mouth. Kendall sucks against them, tongue moving along James's skin in this completely agonizing way. He scrapes his teeth over James's fingernails, gentle. James stares up at him, at the flush lining his stomach all the way up to his shoulders while he fumbles for a bottle of lube, James's fingers still wet in his mouth.

James thinks the burning feeling in his gut isn't tequila, not any more.

He waits patiently while Kendall searches, still sucking at James's fingertips, finally coming up with a clear plastic bottle that's obviously not the original packaging because James is pretty sure that he spies a hair gel brand name across the front. They've all gotten sneaky about hiding things like lube and condoms because Mrs. Knight doesn't really have much concept of privacy.

Shaky, Kendall offers him the bottle and James takes it, but he doesn't pop it open.

Instead, eyes trained on Kendall's face, he slides his fingers slow across the curve of Kendall's ass, devouring the way he looks a little panicked, but mostly desperate. James sinks a finger into Kendall's ass, still slick with Kendall's saliva. He watches Kendall shift, a little uncomfortable, trying to get used it. He remembers the first time someone did this to him, some roadie at a concert with a brilliant smile. He remembers the harsh scrape of short nail against muscle, remembers the way he had to stop himself from jerking away from it. James tries to make it as easy as he can, moving past tight muscle to the velvety soft skin inside, but he still has to stop and tell Kendall to _relax_.

It's worse when he adds a second digit, stretching Kendall against him, but only for a beat.

James knows he's kind of a slut, but whatever, it's because he's a slut that he knows how to do this, how to touch just the right place when he's got his fingers shoved up inside of Kendall. How to curl them the right way to make Kendall shout his name too loud in the apartment.

He's glad that they're noisy people, that they've never really learned how to do anything quietly. He's glad that they get into a million bickering fights every day so that the sound of Kendall screaming at him isn't really all that uncommon, as long as no one's listening well enough to figure out that there's this pleased, needy undertone to the words. He's glad that he doesn't have any reason to force Kendall to shut up, to wrap his fingers around his mouth and tell him to hush now because just this once, he wants to hear, wants to listen like he never has before.

James plies Kendall apart, hovering over him, watching with his heart in his throat as Kendall moves against him. He's waiting for the moment, for the exact second when the burn of it is outweighed by the build of it, by the way pleasure sparks behind his eyes. James can tell when Kendall's ready, can see it when Kendall rocks down against him.

He slicks lube against his dick, a little cold, but not nearly enough to douse the dull thud of want pounding inside of him. He hovers over Kendall's body, mouth brushing against the skin of his cheekbone, and he asks one more time, "Are you sure?"

Kendall nods, catching James's lips in a kiss, and James rewards him by shifting his fingers one more time before gently withdrawing to position his body. He lifts Kendall's knees, pushing back to see how much weight he can take, shifting until he's pressed up against him.

"James," Kendall pants, hands clawing at James's ass to urge him forward. James tries to ignore him, to push in slow, but Kendall's- fuck- so tight that he can't really help it when his hips stutter forwards. And then he decides to stay there, balls pushed up against Kendall's ass, because there is a very real possibility that he might not actually have enough endurance for this, for Kendall spread out under him.

Plus he figures he should wait, should let Kendall adjust to the sharp pain that no amount of stretching really prepares a person for. He shifts up, just a little, trying to find the right angle and then Kendall's hands are pushing at his shoulders and at first James thinks he wants to stop but then it's turned into this bruising, pulling grip as he urges, "Move."

So James does. At first in short little thrusts, until Kendall begins to make these absolutely obscene noises and James needs to go faster, needs more friction lancing up the shaft of his cock. Whenever he pushes in too fast Kendall like, convulses around him, and he's not a virgin, he's done this before but he has never once fucking felt this way with his best friends clinging to him like the whole world might fall away if he lets go. Kendall's fucking down onto James now, sweat pooled in the hollows of his throat, his collar bone, slick against his forehead and for some reason James just finds that hotter, like one of his many locker room fantasies coming to life.

He extricates one hand from where it's come to rest cradling, Kendall's head, protecting him from the headboard, fingers threaded through his hair so that he can wrap his fingers around Kendall's cock, and for just a minute he has to slow down to watch the way that Kendall looks, fucked out with James fucking him. He can't really stop for long because the way Kendall's squeezing around him is almost painful, a high noise in the back of his throat urging him to just- _move_.

James is good at figuring out rhythms, good at timing his hand on Kendall's cock with the way his hips pound into him, but it doesn't even matter because Kendall barely lasts for more than a few moments after that, clenching down around him so that James is trapped between spasms, trapped and following him right over when the whole world goes white.

When his vision clears, his forehead is resting against Kendall's shoulder, and he's still buried inside of him, dick going soft. He pulls out as nicely as he possibly can, but Kendall still winces at the movement. James flops down on the bed beside him, content to never move again.

Then it occurs to him that yeah. He's sobered up now. Mostly.

And Kendall never once pushed him away. He has this vague, hazy recollection of Kendall begging, of him saying _for so long I've wanted_ and James doesn't know what the word at the end of that sentence was going to be, but for some reason he thinks it might have been _you_. James isn't very bright, but he can put two and two together.

He decides not to say anything until he's sure he can speak without his voice going all shaky, which takes at least five minutes, five minutes where Kendall curls warm into his side.

Finally, James manages, "Jo wasn't really the one who wanted to wait, was she?"

Kendall mumbles against the skin of his ribs, "You figured that out, did you?"

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

Kendall rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling. "I didn't think you'd go for it."

"You were obviously wrong. Also, I win," James says.

"How?"

James leans down and nips at his ear affectionately. "I told you I'd get you laid."

"Shut up." Kendall hits him in the face with his pillow.

"No, really." James laughs. "It was a pleasure to pop your cherry."

"About that." Kendall's ears redden. "I may have- um. I may have, um, exaggerated about my virginity."

"What?"

"Remember that night, at the bowling alley? Well, it turns out that the girl I was dating, at the time? Wasn't big on giving up. We, um, the day after I went to that stupid club-"

"It wasn't stupid," James protests.

"Whatever. We kind of. Had sex. Several times. And throughout the rest of the year."

"But- she spread nasty rumors about you!"

"She was kind of possessive," Kendall explains meekly.

"Why didn't I know this?" James yelps, indignant, because he has spent the past year and a half stressing that Kendall wouldn't know the touch of a woman until he was too old to actually get an erection.

"You're cute when you're concerned about me. Also, I liked your seduction tips."

"You didn't _need_ them."

"Well, they taught me how to seduce you, didn't they?"

James tries to smother Kendall with the pillow he'd been assaulted with moments before.

Which somehow, leads to kissing. Which seems to be leading to a pretty sweet destination that James is in full support of.

And then they hear a banging noise.

"Aw, aw, ugh. I can never _unsee_ that," Logan half shrieks from the other side of the door.

"Why would you want to?" James calls back. He hears Logan make a gagging noise and laughs.

Then he turns back to Kendall and says, "Want to really traumatize him?"

Kendall grins.


End file.
